Page 168 of Shots & Echoes

I took a deep breath, letting the air fill my lungs as I squared my shoulders and pushed back against the weight bearing down on me. The fear might have settled in, but I wouldn’t let it control me—not when so much was at stake.

As I walked away from that building, each step felt deliberate—each one a promise to myself that I would fight tooth and nail for what I wanted. Nothing could take this away from me without a battle. There was a fire inside me igniting with each step; anger at Chambers for trying to undermine me and fear of losing what I had with Knox fueled my resolve.

I wouldn’t let their doubts consume me; I’d show them exactly who I was—a fighter ready to take on whatever came next.

Chapter 32

Knox

The ice groaned beneath my weight as I pushed harder, every stride fueled by something I couldn’t name—rage, regret, maybe both. The rink was empty, silent but for the sharp cut of my skates slicing across the frozen surface, the rhythm of my breath coming too fast, too ragged. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

“You’re going to bring her down.”My father’s voice curled in my head, relentless.

I forced my legs to move faster, muscles screaming in protest. The burn was a welcome distraction, but it couldn’t drown out the words, the fucking truth of them. I had spent my whole life fighting expectations, clawing my way toward something greater, and now? Now I was the obstacle standing in her way.

“Now she’s the girl who fucked her coach.”

My jaw clenched, fury and disgust knotting in my chest like barbed wire. Was that what they’d call her? Was that what she’d be reduced to when Chambers finally took his shot?

His smug fucking face flashed in my mind, that glint in his eyes like he’d already won. Like he had the power to take her future in his hands and crush it.

I skated harder, faster, but it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. The weight of my mistakes stuck to me like a second skin, impossible to shake. I had done this. I had tainted her dream with my hands, my touch, my fuckingname.

The boards blurred past me as I dropped my shoulder, digging into a tight turn, my edges carving deep grooves into the ice. My lungs burned, sweat dripping down my back, but I barely felt it. The only thing I felt was the goddamn panic clawing up my throat.

Iris had fought for this moment—bled for it, sacrificed for it—and I had given them exactly what they needed to rip it all away from her.

All because I couldn’t stay away.

I came to an abrupt stop at center ice, my chest rising and falling like I’d just gone ten rounds in a fight I knew I was losing. My reflection in the glass was a stranger—drenched in sweat, eyes dark with something raw, something desperate.

I had tried to convince myself this could work, that we could steal moments behind locked doors and no one would ever know. That we could have this and it wouldn’t cost her everything.

But the truth was staring me dead in the face now.

I had become the one thing I swore I’d never be.

A goddamn liability.

I slammed the puck into the net with a brutalclang;the force rattling the goalposts, but it wasn’t enough. Not even close. I skated forward, snatching another puck from the pile, gripping my stick so tightly my knuckles ached. My breath came sharp, ragged, my heartbeat hammering in my ears louder than the echo of my father’s words.

“You’re going to bring her down.”

I gritted my teeth and fired again—another shot, harder, faster. The impact sent a violent tremor through my shoulder, but I welcomed the pain. It grounded me. It reminded me I was still here. Still standing. Even as my world collapsed around me.

Iris.

She was everywhere. In every fucking breath I took, in every damn second I spent trying—and failing—to outrun the mess we’d tangled ourselves in. I could still feel the heat of her skin beneath my hands, still hear her whisper my name like a confession, still taste the words she’d said with raw, reckless certainty.I love your son.

But love wasn’t enough, was it?

I crushed the blade of my stick into the ice, my skates carving deep lines as I pushed off, circling the rink like I could chase down the answer. Like I couldfixthis.

I had spent years fighting battles I couldn’t win, taking hits I refused to back down from, but this? This was different.

She had a future—one so fucking bright it burned to look at. A future that didn’t need my shadow looming over it. And that was the cruelest part of all. I wanted her to have everything she had worked for. I wanted her to skate onto that Team USA roster with nothing but pride weighing on her shoulders.

But instead, I had made her a target.

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